


awake unto a golden home (elemental light, you're beautiful)

by thylionheart



Series: if my heart was a house, you'd be home [12]
Category: A Wrinkle in Time (2018), Kairos (O'Keefe) Series - Madeleine L'Engle
Genre: (much milder than last installment cross my heart), Anxiety, Bullying, Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Middle School, Mild Language, Minor Original Character(s), Original Character(s), Post-Movie, Romance, Sexual Harassment, having people in their class just makes their world feel more developed imo???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-23 18:46:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18155651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thylionheart/pseuds/thylionheart
Summary: Meg gets a particularly odd note in her locker.*not a standalone*





	awake unto a golden home (elemental light, you're beautiful)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for being so patient with me! College has been a big adjustment. I do have a lot of words written, spanning around 8 fics, for this series, so while it may take me time to roll them out, I think it's better to have a good chunk of each one written than to not have anything written!
> 
> The reason this fic is rated Teen is because it contains mild language and a touch of sexual harassment (which is far milder in this fic than in the last, but I still feel obligated to warn about it).
> 
> Veronica gets another POV in this one! I like using other characters to observe Meg & Calvin's relationship from the outside. It provides a fresh perspective.
> 
> Oh, and just a lil note: Jaime’s name is pronounced Hi-May, not Jay-Me like it is in Game of Thrones (that show has really caused confusion over the pronunciation of this name lol).
> 
> The title is from the song Elemental Light by The Cult.

* * *

  

“But I don’t get it. Why did that one guy get to shoot two free throws and you only got to shoot one? That doesn’t seem fair.”

Calvin stepped closer to Meg as they walked, dodging another student’s shoulder and waving to a friend as they passed. “It is fair, ‘cause even though I got fouled, I actually made my basket. The other guy missed his.”

”So,” Meg began as they reached their adjoining lockers, “since you had just scored a point—”

“Two points.”

”—two points, you only got one other chance to score, but since the guy on the other team missed, he got to basically try and make up the shot he missed?”

”Yeah, exactly.”

Meg shook her head as she unlocked her locker. “I still can’t believe you made that shot. You went down _hard_. I thought you got hurt.”

”Nah, it really didn’t hurt. Just looked like it.” As she opened her locker door, Calvin reached over and played with a stray curl that was bouncing around her nose. “But it’s cute that you were worried about me.”

A blue note fluttered out of her locker and fell to the floor. Calvin picked it up and frowned.

“Just throw it away.” Meg waved her hand with a sigh. She didn’t want to know what mean thing Elle or Tristan or whoever had to say now.

“No, wait. It doesn’t make any sense. It’s just a number.”

“A phone number?”

“No.”

Closing her locker, Meg took the note from Calvin and looked at it. A single number was scrawled across the blue paper:

_140.91_

“That’s weird.” She squinted. “There’s…something familiar about this number.”

Calvin tilted his head at her. “Familiar? It looks like nonsense to me.”

The bell rang. Meg stared at the number for a few more seconds before shrugging and shoving it into the smallest pocket of her backpack. She could analyze the note later. Right now, she and Calvin had an algebra test.

 

* * *

 

_140.91_

Meg tapped her pencil against her chin and studied the number that she’d scribbled on the bottom of her paper. She had finished her test with twenty minutes left in class; realistically, she should go back and add in some visual work to please Ms. Russo, but all she could think about right now was that odd note.

The familiarness of the number was what nagged Meg the most. She was positive that she had seen it before. Already she had tried rooting it, squaring it, and cubing it, but that had only resulted in a meaningless and foreign list of numbers.

Maybe it was a call number for a book? Or a cipher? If each number directly corresponded to a letter of the alphabet, then…

She applied the cipher.

_AD-IA_

Hm. Perhaps it was 14-9-9-1, not 1-4-9-9-1.

_N-IA_

Gibberish. Even if it was supposed to be a name, no one in their grade was named Adia or Nia. Meg sighed and slouched in her chair.

There was no way Tristan had left this in her locker; the baseball star only ever sent her insults or disgusting drawings that made Calvin’s eyes flame with anger. A cipher, call number, or math problem was far, far beyond his dull mind. But Elle, on the other hand, was a member of the school’s debate team and had high grades in all her subjects, a fact she loved to flaunt. She was certainly clever enough to devise some sort of coded message.

But the question still remained: Why?

 

* * *

 

By the time lunch rolled around, Meg had exhausted all of the ciphers she knew—which, admittedly, wasn’t many. She sent Calvin a text as soon as she left Spanish, telling him that she was going to visit the school library to look for a book before meeting him for lunch. It took him less than a minute to reply.

_Want any help?_

_sure_ , Meg responded. Calvin knew how to navigate the library better than she did, and she could use a new perspective on the number.

She spent five minutes scouring the rows of shelves before Calvin found her.

“Hey,” he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. “What’re you looking for?”

“Call number 140.91.”

Calvin stared at her for a second. Then he barked a loud laugh that he quickly stifled with his hand. “Wait, what?”

Meg sighed and rubbed her forehead. “That stupid number is driving me crazy. I thought maybe it was a call number for a book.”

“Huh.” A wide grin spread across Calvin’s face.

“What? Am I wrong? Is that not how call numbers look—?”

“No, no, it is. Just…this is like something out of a spy movie. Or _National Treasure._ ”

Rolling her eyes, Meg took off down the row. “Well, let’s just hope we find the Declaration of Independence and not some awful prank Elle’s cooked up.”

Calvin caught her backpack before she could step out of reach. “Uh, the 100’s are back on that wall.” He pointed in the opposite direction.

Meg groaned and followed him as he walked to a bookcase labeled _Philosophy_. They searched the shelf, but the closest they got was a measly 141.2, which ended up being a book on modern Platonism. Not a single 140.

Meg shoved the last book back into its slot with a loud _thunk_ , earning her a glare from the librarian. “Oops. Well, dead end, I guess. Looks like it’s not a call number.”

“It was a clever idea, though. What else could it be?” Calvin leaned against the bookcase, watching Meg with a contemplative expression. “I mean, it’s so specific. And you said it sounded familiar.”

“I don’t know. But whatever it is can wait. I’m hungry.”

 

* * *

 

At the end of lunch, Meg walked to the girl’s locker room to change for gym. She momentarily fumbled with her locker combination, a thought popping into her head—could the number be a lock combination or passcode?—before she finally managed to pop the lock open and open the door. A flash of blue caught her eye.

“No way,” Meg whispered. Another note was laying atop her gym shirt. Two numbers and a letter were scribbled across the paper:

_16_

_24.31 – g ?_

It had to be Elle, then. Unless a boy had snuck into the girl’s locker room. But who would go to that kind of trouble when they could simply slip a note into her regular locker?

Meg pulled her phone out of her back pocket and snapped a picture of the new note. She sent it to Calvin, along with a message: _i just found this in my gym locker_

Calvin replied back less than a minute later. _Your GYM locker????_

_i recognize the numbers again but…idk. it’s not clicking. tty in a minute, ok?_

_Okay.._

Meg gazed warily around the locker room. Most of the girls had already changed, and, as she watched, Elle and her clique walked out the door. None of them so much as glanced her way. She sighed, changed into her gym outfit, tied her hair up into a slapdash bun, and left.

 

* * *

 

Coach Stewart was running late, a fact which many students were taking advantage of. As she hovered near the bleachers, Meg watched as her classmates messed around with floor hockey sticks. Two girls nearby were engaged in a faux-sword fight and giggling madly. The sound of sneakers squeaking across the linoleum filled the gym, grating on Meg’s nerves. She hated that sound; the only time she willingly endured it was to watch Calvin play basketball, and even then she liked to put in earbuds to ease her discomfort.

Meg didn’t have the best memories of playing floor hockey. Two years ago, she had received detention for hitting a boy in the face with a stick. It had been a complete accident, but the gym teacher at the time—a rat-mustached man named Coach Landon—had yelled at her until he was blue in the face. As soon as he sent her out of the gym, she had burst into tears.

She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice Calvin walk up. When he said her name she jumped.

Worry weighed down the corners of Calvin’s mouth. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just thinking.”

“About the notes?”

“Coach Landon, actually.”

Calvin cocked his head, clearly confused, but then he looked around the gym and the lightbulb flickered on. “Oh, didn’t he yell at you in like, 5th grade for hitting Tyler Murphy in the eye with a hockey stick?”

“6th grade and it was an accident, but yeah. Speaking of the notes, though…” Meg dug the newest note out of her pocket and handed it to him.

He barely spared it a glance before asking her, “Are you okay? Like, is this freaking you out?” 

Meg rocked up and down on her heels. “I mean, I’m a bit freaked, but…it’s like you said earlier. It feels like a spy movie. Like a puzzle or a treasure hunt. And it’s numbers, and numbers are my thing, y’know? So I’m like, kinda excited to figure this out. More so that than worried. Besides, numbers can’t hurt me. Maybe it’ll end up being some kind of insult, but I’ll still have fun figuring it out, so if someone did mean for it to be a prank, joke’s on them.”

Calvin let out a sigh, the tension leaving his shoulders. “Okay. That’s good. I was worried that you were worried.”

She poked him in the stomach and he wriggled away from her, laughing. “I thought I was supposed to be the worrywart in this relationship,” Meg teased.

“Neither of us are ‘supposed’ to be anything,” Calvin countered. He spun her around and pulled a couple of bobby pins out from beneath her bun, then started to re-pin the fly-aways and stray curls that she had missed. “We’re just who we are.”

“Thanks, Dr. Phil.”

“Man, you're on a roll right now.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Calvin mumbled when he spoke; he must’ve had a pin between his teeth. “As long as you’re feeling okay, you can make fun of me as much as you want.”

When he finished, he pressed a gentle kiss to her ear. Forgetting that they weren’t alone, Meg let herself soften into his touch, her eyes drifting shut. But it only lasted a minute—a door closed with a metallic _thud_ and Coach Stewart’s whistle cut through the air. She jolted away from Calvin, terrified that their classmates had seen them or that the whistle had been directed at them. But their coach’s focus was on a handful of boys who had decided to try and climb along the outside of the bleachers at the opposite end of the gym.

“To be continued,” Calvin murmured in Meg’s ear. She elbowed him in the ribs, blushing.

As they made their way over to the rest of their class, unease suddenly rippled across Meg’s skin and she felt someone’s gaze upon her. She glanced to the side and saw that Elle was watching her. Calvin had given her back the note; unconsciously Meg reached into her pocket, her fist closing around the small scrap of paper.

Elle glared at her, then turned away.

 

* * *

 

After her sixth period history class, Meg found yet another blue note in her locker. This time, it read:

_12_

_26.982_

Calvin was at the opposite end of the school for literature, so on her way to her final period she took a picture of the new note and sent it to him. He replied back with a string of worried emojis.

 _Any_ _epiphanies?_

 _not_ _yet_

_You’ll figure this out! You’re smarter than whoever sent it, no question_

_you don’t know that_

_Don’t sell yourself short Nutmeg, you’re brilliant_

She smiled to herself as she settled into her seat. Before putting her phone away, Meg sent him a blushing emoji.

Science should’ve been her favorite class of the day. But their wrinkled, balding teacher, Mr. Nuñez, had the extraordinary ability to make even the most interesting subjects boring beyond belief. Today he droned on and on about volcanoes, tempting Meg’s eyes to close. Her attention wandered idly around the classroom, from the terrarium hosting the class' bearded dragon—Guapo—to the hideous posters that she and her classmates had made about the water cycle, then to the periodic table hanging above the whiteboard—

Meg jolted upright. That was it.

Elements. The numbers corresponded to different elements.

She grabbed her science textbook and flipped to the back, where she knew there was a periodic table, and then dug the blue notes out of her backpack. After organizing them in order of first-received to last, she scoured the table for each number.

“140.91, 140.91,” she said under her breath. “140—yes!”

140.91 was the atomic mass of praseodymium.

It only took her two minutes to find the rest of the elements. 16 was the atomic mass of oxygen while 24.31 was the atomic mass of magnesium; 12 was carbon’s atomic mass, and 26.982 was aluminum’s.

Once she was done scrawling them down on a scrap of paper, Meg bit the end of her mechanical pencil. Now what?

She glanced back at the blue notes. There was still something odd—the note with magnesium’s atomic mass had an additional notation: “– g ?” Magnesium’s symbol was Mg, so…what if it wasn’t just the atomic masses that were important, but the elemental symbols?

Excitement thrummed within Meg. The symbols must spell out a word! She set her pen back to paper. Praseodymium, oxygen, magnesium—specifically minus the “g”—carbon, and then finally aluminum—

Meg gawked at her paper. Then she let out a breathy, startled giggle and bit her lip. The girl sharing her lab table shot her a confused glance before redirecting her attention back to the lecture.

Together, all the elemental symbols spelled out two words:

_PrOM? CAl_

Burying her reddening face in her hands, Meg swallowed a squeal and resisted the urge to flail her arms in glee. Before their relationship had become public, she and Calvin had agreed that they wouldn’t risk exposing their secret by going to the upcoming school dance together, instead deciding to have a movie marathon that same evening. Meg hadn’t even considered that, since everyone now knew they were dating, they were free to go as a couple, and she certainly hadn’t expected Calvin to ask her in such an elaborate way.

No wonder he had been so amused when she’d searched the library! He’d known _exactly_ what the numbers meant the entire time.

Well, she had some numbers to give him of her own.

 

* * *

 

Meg waited until after school to execute her plan. She had never been that great of a liar, but she hoped that Calvin’s nerves regarding the whole situation would blind him to the shine that undoubtedly filled her eyes. When he met her at her locker, she forced a frown and held up a blue slip of paper, on which she had carefully, in a style different than her own, written two numbers: 

_88.906_

_252_

“I got another note.”

Calvin’s eyes went completely blank. “You did?”

“Yeah. Here.”

As he studied the note, his face scrunched up into such an adorable jumble of confusion that Meg nearly snorted.

“Y’know, I thought I’d have fun with this, but I’m actually getting bored. I think I’m gonna give up.”

Calvin was quiet for a few moments. Then he asked slowly, “Have you, uh, tried the periodic table?”

Meg feigned surprise, glad for an excuse not to hide the smile that had threatened to break her ruse. “No, I haven’t. That’s a great idea!” She pulled out her phone to google the information. “Let’s see. Uh, 88.906 is the atomic mass of yttrium, and…252 is the atomic mass of einsteinium. Huh. That doesn’t make any sense. I mean, the numbers match, but the elements themselves are meaningless.”

She sighed, pretended to lose interest, and turned around to shove her textbooks into her locker. “Whatever. It’s probably just a stupid prank anyway.”

“Can I see?” Calvin took Meg’s phone. She kept her back to him and listened as he quietly murmured the elemental symbols to himself. “‘Y’…‘Es’. ‘Yes’? What…”

There was a pause.

“Meg Murry!”

She burst out laughing as Calvin swept her up from behind and twirled her around.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Says the guy who put cryptic notes in my locker just to ask me out!”

Calvin set her down and she faced him. He had a sheepish grin plastered across his face. “Was it too much?”

“It was totally insane…”

His smile fell a tad.

“…and absolutely perfect.” Meg threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. “Who else would think to ask me to the prom using a puzzle with _atomic masses_? And speaking of which, it’s not even technically prom, you dork.”

“I know. But I couldn’t spell ‘dance.’”

“You could barely spell ‘prom’!”

Calvin let out a bashful chuckle. “Gosh, I was so worried. After I put the first note in your locker, I realized that it might freak you out. But the second one was already in your gym locker too, so I decided to wait and see how you reacted. I was gonna tell you right away if it creeped you out.”

Meg poked him in the chest. “No wonder you were so stressed during gym! How’d you get that one note in my gym locker?”

“Would you believe that Veronica helped me?”

“No way.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

He bent his head to kiss her, forgetting for a moment that they were still at school. Out of habit Meg shied back, fear causing her eyes to dart around the halls. Small clusters of students still lingered by their lockers, including Elle, Lorna, and Dahlia. The three girls were watching them and whispering amongst themselves. When Elle saw Meg looking at them, she glowered.

Calvin’s gaze followed hers and his smile disappeared. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

The sadness in his voice caused guilt to wash over Meg—then, anger at herself for balking despite the fact that everyone already knew that they were together. Before Calvin could pull away entirely, Meg cupped his cheek and kissed him. He faltered for a moment, surprised, then kissed her back.

“ _I’m_ sorry,” whispered Meg after she drew away. She forced herself to keep her eyes fixed on Calvin instead of straying to peek at Elle and her clique. “I know I need to stop worrying, or caring. It’s just…”

“Hey, I get it. I understand.” Calvin stroked her hair. “It’s like muscle memory.”

“Yeah, exactly. But I’m not gonna have any fun with you at the dance if I’m focusing on what everyone else thinks.”

“Are you sure you wanna go?”

Meg smiled. “I’m not gonna pass up the chance to see you in a suit.”

That made Calvin laugh. “Alright. I better leave before I’m late for practice. I’ll try to come over later if my mom isn’t in a bad mood.”

“Okay. Can we walk outside together?” She didn’t say it, but she didn’t want to risk being alone in the halls with Elle and her cronies.

Nonetheless, Calvin understood. “Of course.”

They gathered their things. Calvin entwined his hand with Meg’s, and together the couple left the brick school building.

 

* * *

 

Calvin should have known that their classmates wouldn’t react well to him asking Meg to the dance. He had hoped, of course, that since no one had harassed Meg in a couple weeks, it meant that her bullies had found better uses of their time. Besides, him asking her couldn’t have been that much of a shock, so why would it elicit any backlash?

But his hopes were dashed the very next day, during second period English.

Mrs. Estrella had once again called Meg up to the whiteboard, intent on forcibly increasing her participation. Calvin knew how much his girlfriend hated sentence diagramming, and, as he watched her struggle to diagram the sentence that their teacher had written on the board, he wished that somehow he could help.

Then, something suddenly sailed past Calvin and hit Meg in the head. She started, turning around to stare at the floor in confusion. All the color drained from her face.

Mrs. Estrella let out a muted gasp and bent down to pick up the object. When she stood, half the class started whispering. A smoldering weight sank in Calvin’s stomach and rage crawled across his skin.

It was a condom. A note was taped to it, but Calvin couldn’t make out what it said.

“Who threw this?” demanded Mrs. Estrella, her voice icy cold.

Tristan Novak snickered. No one else did.

“This is tantamount to sexual harassment,” their teacher fumed. “When I find out who did this, I—Margaret!”

Meg had dropped the dry-erase marker and bolted to the door, flinging it open and fleeing without so much as a glance toward Calvin. Lurching to his feet, he tried to follow her, but Mrs. Estrella stepped in front of him. 

“Sit back down,” she said firmly. “I won’t have any more—hey! Veronica, get back in your seat!”

Calvin had been so distracted by Meg’s departure that he hadn’t noticed Veronica stand too. She ran out the open door before their teacher could stop her.

Mrs. Estrella looked ready to explode. She turned her ire upon the class, demanding that the culprit be identified immediately or else she would mark down everyone’s grades by 5% for the next test. Despite her threats, no one spoke.

Reluctantly Calvin sat down in his desk, his hands balled into tight fists. Staring at the door, he prayed that Veronica had left to comfort Meg and, if that was the case, that she would succeed.

 

* * *

 

_Enjoy the dance, slut._

The mocking words stained Meg’s vision as she ran across the courtyard, the wind blowing her curls into her mouth. Anger and humiliation bit at the back of her throat.

Of course. Of course they couldn’t let her enjoy one iota of happiness with Calvin. They had to humiliate her, accuse her, spread rumors about her. She wanted to stamp it all down and pretend like it didn’t bother her, but there was only so much she could take.

Meg reached her and Calvin’s maple tree and kicked at its roots before dropping down to a sitting position with a thud. Resting her head on her knees, she was surprised when no tears tried to spring from her eyes and realized that, more than anything, she wanted to scream until her lungs begged for relief.

Footsteps crossed the courtyard toward her. At first she assumed it was Calvin, but as they drew closer she realized instinctively that they did not belong to her boyfriend. Meg jerked her head up to see who it was and was startled to see Veronica.

“Are you okay?” asked her former bully.

Meg couldn’t help a sharp, mirthless laugh from jumping out of her throat. “What do you think?”

She placed her head back on her knees. After a moment, she heard Veronica sit beside her.

“Do you want, um, comfort or distraction? That’s what my dad always asks me when I’m upset.”

Meg shrugged.

Veronica was silent for a few heartbeats. Then: “Jaime asked me to the dance today.”

If Meg hadn’t been hiding her head, Veronica would’ve seen her jaw drop to the ground. She had suspected that Jaime might harbor a sweet spot for her old bully, yes, but she had never imagined that he would ever ask her out. Not after the way Veronica had treated her. She was his best friend’s girlfriend, after all.

Almost as suddenly as she had blurted out this new information, Veronica back-peddled. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t make this about me.”

Meg bit her lip. If the conversation was focused on Veronica, it would be easier for her to not think about what had happened in class. So she asked, voice muffled by her jeans, “Did you say yes?”

“Oh. Um, no. But I haven’t said no, either. I don’t know what to say.”

“Do you like him?”

Veronica took a deep breath. “I’ve…I’ve only ever told Adriana this, but…Jaime and I know each other. Like, outside of school. We’re both in this community drama club over at the 24th Street Theatre, the one by Cafe Amandine. We have been for over a year now. And honestly…we hang out a lot over there. Like, a lot. I really enjoy spending time with him. But…we never talked at school. Not until recently.”

That could’ve been her and Calvin, Meg thought with a small shiver. Close friends outside of school, strangers on campus. She couldn’t imagine the sort of loneliness and confusion that would bring.

“We were, um, leads in a play together. _Romeo & Juliet._ Cliché, I know, and if you laugh I swear I’m leaving.”

Meg didn’t laugh. Veronica scrutinized her for any sign of scorn and, when she didn’t see any, continued.

“Jaime thought that Juliet was a princess. So he would call me ‘ _mi princesa_ ’ every day and bow when he greeted me. It was…honestly super cute. I didn’t correct him for such a long time because it made me feel all happy and special. We would tease each other all the time and use our worst British accents and a bunch of thees and thous and m’lords. He’s just—he’s the goofiest guy I’ve ever met. And it’s like…I feel like I can relax with him at 24. Like I don’t have to put up a front or be someone I’m not. Except, well, whatever character I’m acting as.”

Finally, Meg raised her head. “You haven’t said whether or not you like him.”

“I…” Veronica’s cheeks tinged pink. “Yeah. I think I do.”

“Then say yes. He wouldn’t have asked you if he didn’t like you.”

It was Veronica’s turn to hide her face. She groaned and said, “It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Well, how did you and Calvin first go out?”

_We tessered around the universe searching for my father with three celestial beings and my little brother._ “Uh…we didn’t exactly ‘go out’ before becoming a couple. He sorta just…kissed me at my house one night.”

“Oh.”

Both girls were quiet for a spell. Then Veronica whispered, almost to herself, “Jaime’s such a good guy. After everything I’ve done, I…I don’t think I deserve someone like him.”

Meg’s eyes widened slightly. “Veronica—”

Even if Veronica had let her finish, she didn’t know what she would have said. Her old friend straightened her back, cleared her face of emotion, and said, “We should go back to class before we both get in trouble.”

“I’m not going back,” Meg said flatly.

“No, you don’t get it. That’s what they want. Whoever threw that at you, they don’t want you to come back to class. They want you to get in trouble for running out. They want to isolate you. Believe me. I was on that side, remember? If we go back now and, like, apologize to Mrs. Estrella for leaving and pretend like nothing happened, you take away their power. You show them that you’re strong enough to bounce back. Plus, I bet Calvin’ll be happy to see you.”

Fiddling with the bracelet he had given her, Meg stared at the dirt beneath her feet. “He’s gonna be more angry than happy.”

“At you?”

“No. At whoever threw the…thing at me.”

“Well, duh. No decent guy would be thrilled to see someone throw a condom at his girlfriend.”

All at once Meg felt herself inflate with defensiveness and she hurriedly said, “We’ve never—we’ve only ever kissed, and we’re not—”

Veronica held up her hands. “It’s not my business.”

“It used to be,” Meg snapped, then groaned and closed her eyes. “Sorry.”

“You’re not wrong.” After a moment, she checked the time on her phone. “Crap. Okay, I’m going back to class. You coming?”

It took a few seconds and a couple deep breaths, but Meg finally said, “Yeah.”

When they reached the English classroom, both girls hesitated. Veronica swallowed and looked at Meg. “You ready?”

“Let’s just get this over with.”

Nodding, Veronica opened the door. Meg squared her shoulders and tilted her chin up with faux confidence before following her inside.

Mrs. Estrella was in the middle of explaining transitive verbs. She stopped abruptly when she saw the girls. “Well, look who decided to come back. I’m tempted to send you both straight to the principal’s office.”

Meg couldn’t help but peek at Calvin. Her boyfriend immediately caught her gaze, asking her with a frown and furrowed brow if she was okay. She gave him a tiny nod, but she could tell that he wasn’t convinced.

Doe-eyed, Veronica sidled up to their teacher, her lips puckered into an apologetic pout. Meg had to refrain from rolling her eyes. Of _course_ she was in a drama club.

“We’re sorry for leaving,” said Veronica quietly. “It was disrespectful of us.”

When Meg didn’t say anything, her old bully elbowed her in the ribs until she echoed her apology.

Arms crossed, Mrs. Estrella tapped a dry-erase marker against her upper arm, studying the two girls. “Speak to me after class,” she eventually said. “Now go sit down.”

As Meg passed Calvin on the way to her seat, he brushed his fingertips against hers. That small touch alone gave her enough comfort to keep her from burying her head in her arms to hide from the side-eyes and poorly concealed whispers of her classmates. 

She could feel the eyes of Elle Blumenthal and Tristan Novak burning the back of her neck. One of them had to have done it, she thought, but only one of them had called her a slut before.

It had to be Elle.

 

* * *

 

“I understand why you ran out,” Mrs. Estrella said, leaning against her desk with her arms crossed, “but that does not excuse your actions. For either of you.”

Meg and Veronica squirmed. Class had ended a minute ago, and the allure of the ten-minute break between second and third period had quickly emptied the classroom. Calvin had stayed behind with Meg, his hand clutching hers.

“However,” their teacher added with a sigh, “due to the circumstances, I will let it slide.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Veronica said. Meg repeated her.

Someone behind the kids cleared their throat. They turned around. One of their classmates—a blond, chubby-cheeked boy named Liam de Vries—stood awkwardly near the first row of desks.

“I, uh, saw who threw the condom,” Liam admitted. He shifted his weight from foot to foot.

Mrs. Estrella stood upright. “Who?”

“Are you gonna tell her I snitched?”

“You’re not snitching. You’re telling the truth.”

“She ain’t gonna see it that way.”

Their teacher was growing frustrated. “ _Who_?”

Liam sighed, rubbed his eyes, and mumbled, “Elle Blumenthal. Please don’t tell her that I told.”

“I won’t,” promised Mrs. Estrella. “Thank you, Liam.”

The boy nodded and moved to leave. Meg extended her arm toward him but didn’t touch him.

“Hey. Thanks.”

He couldn’t meet her eyes. “I didn’t do it for you. A five percent deduction on my next test’ll probably drop me down to an F. I ain’t gonna risk that.”

Meg deflated. Of course. No one liked her enough to help her unless it benefitted them—no one except Calvin and Veronica. Her boyfriend looped his arm around her waist and pressed her close to him. Mrs. Estrella raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing about it.

Liam left. Veronica cast a pitying frown at Meg and turned to leave as well.

“Wait,” Meg said. “Say yes.”

Veronica’s brow furrowed in confusion for a moment; then, understanding flickered in her eyes. She tried to give her a smile, but it was tight with fear. Ducking her head, she walked out the door without replying.

Calvin looked like he wanted to ask Meg what that had been about, but Mrs. Estrella was still standing next to them. So after thanking their teacher, the couple escaped into the hallway. It took them a while, but eventually they found a relatively empty corridor to talk in.

Meg didn’t even give Calvin a chance to speak before she blurted out, “Jaime asked Veronica to the dance.”

Surprise and bewilderment jolted across Calvin’s face. But then he shook his head and said, “That’s not important right now. Are you okay?”

She scowled, scuffing the linoleum with her shoe. “I guess.”

“That sounds more like a 'no' than a 'yes'.”

“I just—I’m more pissed than anything! Of all the stupid, humiliating things Elle could’ve done—!” Meg turned abruptly and kicked a locker. The metal clang reverberated throughout the hallway, catching the attention of a few students who were lingering near their own lockers.

Calvin took her by her shoulders and guided her away from the row of lockers. “Meg, that’s not gonna help.”

“I know,” she whined.

“You’re right to be angry. I’m angry, too.”

And he was. Anyone else in the halls right now would be fooled by his calm, collected facade, but Meg could tell that he was seething. His jaw was tense, his nostrils flared ever so slightly. What really gave it away was his fingers—normally, they were relaxed, easy for Meg to bend and play with, but right now they were stiff and rather twitchy.

“But,” he continued, “Mrs. Estrella was really angry too. I think we can trust her to give Elle what she’s due. So let’s focus on that, okay?”

“Okay,” grumbled Meg. She rested her forehead on his shoulder. “Did you see what the note said?”

“I’m not sure I wanna know. But tell me anyway.”

“‘Enjoy the dance, slut.’”

Meg felt his shoulders grow rigid and heard him mutter a swear. Then, he asked in a soft but strained voice, “Do you still wanna go?”

She pulled back and looked him in the eyes. “Yeah. Do you?”

“Yeah. But if you’re only wanting to go to make me happy, we could still just have that movie night. I won’t be upset.”

Pinching her lips together, Meg took a second to think. “Veronica told me something after she found me earlier. She said that…that my bullies want to scare me away. To isolate me. If I don’t go to the dance, they get what they want. They win. If I go, I take away their power. I prove that I’m stronger than they think. So yeah. I wanna go. I don’t want them to win.”

Pride shone in Calvin’s eyes. “You’re amazing.”

Meg checked to make sure no teachers were around, stood up on her tiptoes, and kissed him. Maybe this would disgust or enrage their classmates, but she was tired of letting them dictate her actions.

It was about time for her to reset her muscle memory.

 

* * *

 

“Wait—Mom, this isn’t the way to Goodwill.” Meg twisted in the passenger seat of the Subaru, trying to spy the nearest street sign. “Why are we going north?”

Her mother cast her a smile. “We’re not going to Goodwill. We’re going to Nordstrom.”

“Nordstrom? But…isn’t that store super expensive?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But—”

“Meglet.” Her mom stopped at a red light and turned to look her daughter in the eyes. “It’s alright. I want to buy you a nice, new dress. One that you can wear to the dance, yes, but also one that you can wear on other occasions as well. You don’t get much mileage out of thrift-store dresses. I want you to feel comfortable, and the likelihood that we’d find an unstained, unripped dress in your size and your height at Goodwill is slim to none.”

That much was true. Meg was often unsuccessful at finding dresses at Goodwill. She was rather tall, taller than most girls in her class, but still several inches shorter than Calvin, who her father suspected would shoot well over six feet by the time he stopped growing. Her chest was quite flat and her torso was more rectangular than shapely, though her hips had gained some curve over the past year. Dresses were often too tight at her hips, too loose at her chest, or too short for her gangly legs.

Still, the thought of spending more than $25 on a dress made Meg feel squeamish.

She had never been inside Nordstrom before. People milled about the vast, brightly-lit store; well-dressed mannequins stood near the entrance. Meg tugged her worn cardigan tighter around herself, feeling self-conscious.

Her mother guided her to the prom dress section of the store. Colors and fabrics abounded; Meg’s nose crinkled at the sight of a particularly hideous green taffeta dress with far too many ruffles. She knew the ‘80s were back in style, but she didn’t think that fashion had regressed _that_ much.

For the next forty-five minutes, Meg tried on nearly eleven dresses. Some she showed off to her mom, while most she immediately took off. Everything seemed too tight, too loose, too short, too sparkly, too plain, too everything and anything and nothing all at once. All hope seemed lost—until her mom pulled a full-length, blush-pink chiffon dress off the rack.

“How about this?”

The light, flowing fabric drew Meg’s attention. “It’s beautiful…”

“Well, in that case,” her mother said with a sparkle in her eye, “it sounds perfect for you. Try it on.”

In the dressing room, Meg slipped on the dress, keeping her back to the mirror. Once it was on, she took a deep breath, crossed her fingers, and turned around. Immediately her face lit up with delight and she bit her lip in an attempt to stifle a squeal.

Her mother must’ve heard her. “How is it?”

“It’s…I really like it. I really, really like it.”

The A-line dress had thin straps running over shoulders as well as short, sheer, cold-shoulder butterfly sleeves. The fabric was soft and angelic, and thanks to the fully-lined skirt Meg didn’t feel exposed despite the sheerness of the chiffon. The neckline didn’t dip too low but still gave the impression that she had a bit more of a shape than she truly did.

Meg pressed her hands to her cheeks and grinned wide. Oh, she couldn’t wait to see Calvin’s face when he saw her in this. She imagined dancing with him, his hands on her waist, his fingers curling into the chiffon fabric. Perhaps he’d slide his hand higher, between her shoulder blades, where the dress bared the smooth skin of her back. The thought made her face grow warm.

“Come out,” her mom called. “Let me see it.”

The dressing room door creaked as Meg left the small cubicle. When her mother saw her, her entire face burst into an adoring smile.

“Oh, Meglet, you look absolutely stunning.”

“Thanks,” Meg said shyly, pushing her glasses farther up on her nose.

Her mom pulled out her phone. “Let me send a picture to Dad.”

“Make sure to tell him not to show Calvin! I wanna surprise him.” 

After her mom snapped the picture, Meg found the dress’s tag and flipped it over to see the price. Her heart dropped into her stomach. There was no way she could ask her mother to buy her such an expensive dress.

“Um, a-actually, I…I don’t know. I don’t think I really like it. I’m…I’m tired, maybe we should try again another day.”

She tried to scurry back into the dressing room.

“Stop,” her mother said.

Meg stopped.

“Come back here.”

Bunching her face up into a scowl, Meg turned to face her mother.

“What’s wrong?”

She gestured petulantly to the price tag.

Her mom sighed. “Oh, Meg, it’s alright. I knew how much the dresses would cost.”

The bespectacled girl crossed her bare arms. “Then why did we come here? Goodwill would’ve been fine!”

Both of them knew that was a lie. A secondhand, ill-fitting dress would make Meg feel horribly uncomfortable at a school event, especially one where her classmates were decked out in salon-done hairstyles and color-matched ties.

Her mom placed her hands on Meg’s arms. “Baby, listen. I want to do this. Think of this as a belated ‘Thank you for bringing Dad back home’ gift.”

“That’s manipulative,” Meg whined.

“Maybe, but I’m running out of ways to convince you that this is okay. Oh, here’s another one: think about the look on Calvin’s face when he sees you in this. I bet he won’t even be able to talk. He’ll just stare at you, jaw on the floor, and I’ll snap a picture that you can giggle over for weeks and weeks. You could even do that whole ‘descend the staircase’ cliché from the movies.”

Meg’s entire face had turned scarlet and she groaned, but a smile was twitching at her mouth. It was as if her mother had crept into her daydreams.

“Will you let me buy this dress for you, Meglet?”

After a long, weighty second, Meg sighed. “Yes.”

She had thought that agreeing would increase her feelings of guilt, but when her mom’s face blossomed into a wide, glorious smile, her heart flipped within her chest and she donned a large smile of her own. This was making her mother happy—so how could Meg _not_ share her enthusiasm?

And she really, really couldn’t wait for Calvin to see her in this dress.

 

* * *

 

“Blue.”

“Nope.”

“Red.”

“Uh-uh.”

“Yellow?”

“Not even close.”

Calvin rested his elbows on Meg’s coffee table and leaned forward, eying her thoughtfully. “…Purple. You love purple.”

Meg kept her eyes on her homework and mimed zipping her lips shut.

“C’mon,” whined Calvin. At this point, he had completely abandoned his homework. “You gotta tell me at some point. My tie has gotta match your dress.”

“And my mom is gonna buy your tie,” his girlfriend replied impishly. “So you’re just gonna have to wait until next Saturday.”

Calvin sulked for a minute, then scooted his floor cushion across the attic floor until he was right next to Meg. She pretended not to notice, scribbling down South American capitals for her history worksheet.

“Nutmeg,” Calvin hummed and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Please?”

“Nope.”

Resting his chin on her shoulder, he nuzzled her neck. “Just the color? Pretty please with caramel drizzle on top?”

“Are you offering to bribe me?”

“I can think of a couple incentives.” Gently he swept her curls back until he could kiss her ear. “I did say this’d be continued…”

Meg melted against him, her pencil falling out of her fingers. She sighed. “Mmm, still not gonna tell you.”

“White?”

“Not telling,” she replied in a sing-song.

Calvin was about to make another guess when his phone started ringing in his back pocket. Startled, he instinctively glanced at the open attic door, expecting to see Dr. Alex with his own cell pressed against his ear. He wouldn’t put it past Meg’s dad to prank him like that. But no one was there.

He dug his phone out of his pocket. A random number scrolled across the top of the screen. Meg rolled her eyes as he hit the green answer button.

“It’s just gonna be a spammer,” she chided.

Calvin shushed her with an amused smile before answering the phone. “Hello?”

“Calvin?”

“Yeah, it’s Calvin. Who’s this?”

Meg wrinkled her nose, confused.

“Um, hey. It’s Veronica.”

“Veronica?”

That made his girlfriend’s eyes grow wider. He shrugged at her.

Veronica sounded sheepish. “I’m actually not calling for you. Not, uh, exactly. I was hoping you’d pass on a message to Meg for me? I don’t have her number.”

“How’d you get mine?”

“…Jaime.”

“Oh. Uh, okay.”

“I’m sorry, I would’ve just come over to tell Meg myself but I’m not home and by the time rehearsal ends it’ll be way too late to come over and—”

“Veronica,” Calvin stopped her, “it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Here, I’m with Meg right now. I’ll put you on speaker.”

He put his phone on the coffee table, hit the speaker button, and curled his arms back around his girlfriend.

“Hello?” Veronica’s voice called from the phone.

“We’re here,” replied Calvin.

“Hey,” Meg said awkwardly.

“Hey, Meg. Sorry if I’m bothering you, but Adriana just texted me something that you need to know. Mrs. Estrella got Principal Jenkins to ban Elle from the dance.”

Meg’s eyes flew wide open and she gaped at the phone. “What?”

“Yeah, Adriana and Lorna are still sorta on good terms and Lorna just told Adriana.”

Calvin expected Meg to celebrate, but instead she slumped against him and groaned. “Oh, no.”

“‘No?’” he echoed. “Isn’t this a good thing?”

“I’m not calling because it’s a good thing,” Veronica said quietly. “I’m calling to warn her.”

Meg took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “I just thought she’d get detention or something. This…this is gonna make everything bad again.”

It finally clicked for Calvin. Banning Elle from the dance would likely only enrage her—and it was not hard to figure out who would receive the brunt of her fury. He swore under his breath.

“Maybe you could ask Principal Jenkins to lift his ban?” Veronica suggested.

“Yeah…” mumbled Meg, her mind clearly elsewhere. 

Calvin scowled. Obviously he didn’t want his girlfriend to be bullied, but he didn’t want Elle to get off scot-free, either. “Maybe we’re wrong. When she got detention for breaking Meg’s locket, Elle didn’t do something worse. She put nasty notes in Meg’s locker, sure, but that was it.”

“Detention’s just a blip on her middle school record,” said Veronica. “But we only have one eighth grade dance. To Elle, that’s all the difference in the world.”

Meg buried her face in Calvin’s chest. “I just want all of this to stop,” she whispered.

Rubbing her back, Calvin kissed her temple and said to the phone, “Veronica, thank you for the warning. We really appreciate it.”

“It’s the least I can do. I just hope I’m wrong.”

Before Veronica could hang up, Meg lifted her head. “Veronica, wait.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you talk to Jaime?”

Silence fell. When Veronica spoke again, her voice was quiet. “I told him I’d think about it.”

“Do you wanna go with him?”

“…Yeah.”

“Goodness gracious, Veronica, then _say yes_.”

More silence. Then: “I gotta go.”

The line clicked dead.

Meg sighed and nestled closer to Calvin. “She’s hopeless.”

“As much as I wanna discuss Veronica’s love life,” he replied, a smidge of sarcasm coloring his tone, “I’m a little more concerned about how you’re feeling about this Elle thing.”

“I’m…anxious. I don’t want to be, but…”

Calvin tightened his hold around her. “If she does something, she’ll be digging her own grave.”

“Not if she doesn’t get caught.”

 

* * *

 

Two days passed without incident. But Veronica had spent four years as one of Elle’s friends, and she knew that fallout was inevitable. So when she, Adriana, and Miguel walked to their lockers before school on the third day and saw Elle and Lorna hovering nearby, eying Meg’s locker, dread pricked at the back of her neck.

Miguel puckered his lips as though he tasted something sour. “What’s that smell?”

“I don’t smell anything,” Adriana replied.

Veronica sniffed the air. At first she smelled nothing, but then a pungent, chemical scent caught in her throat and she coughed. “What the hell is that?”

“It smells like formaldehyde.”

“That’s a ten-dollar word,” mumbled Adriana. “I still don’t smell anything.”

By now, Miguel had the sleeve of his hoodie pressed against his nose. “ _Que suerte_.”

Veronica noticed Meg and Calvin walking down the hall toward them. Their fingers were threaded together and they appeared deep in conversation. Calvin said something that made Meg laugh. But as they neared their lockers, her smile faltered and her nose scrunched up.

Across the hall, Elle’s smirk grew larger.

The couple approached their lockers warily. Once in front of them, they spoke in low voices for a minute. Finally, Meg unlocked her locker, but she stepped back to let her boyfriend open it. The stench of formaldehyde seeped into the air.

Calvin took one look inside the locker and immediately slammed the door shut. “Damnit!”

The hallway went dead silent. Their classmates stared at him in shock.

“Cal,” Meg started quietly, but he shook his head.

“No, no, I’m done being calm. I’m getting Jenkins.”

Five minutes later, Principal Jenkins stood next to Meg’s locker as she slowly solved its combination. By this time a sizable, curious crowd had gathered around them, including Elle, who looked thoroughly delighted by the number of onlookers.

The smell of formaldehyde once again flooded the halls when Meg opened the locker door. Shock widened their principal’s eyes. “Is that—?”

“A dead rat,” Calvin finished, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“It looks as though it’s been—”

“Dissected? Yeah. I think Elle stole it from the seventh-grade science classroom. They’re in the middle of their dissection unit.”

Jenkins raised his eyebrows and glanced across the hallway at the accused girl. “Elle did this?”

Calvin’s voice was rough with frustration. “You banned her from the dance because of what she did to Meg. Elle’s not the type to just take that lying down.”

Elle tilted her chin up, a frown on her lips but a proud glint in her eyes. Veronica noticed Dave Peyton, who was standing near the water fountain, cast a smirk at Elle. She rolled her eyes. Of _course_  he'd find this amusing. The football player had never actively bullied Meg, but he'd spent months trying to chat up Elle and not once had he called her out on her awful behavior. Subsequently, he had taken Elle's side when she'd kicked Veronica out of their clique—though he still texted Veronica for homework help every so often.

Principal Jenkins had placed his hands on his hips. It made him look rather comical. “Where is your proof?”

“Non-existent,” Meg whispered.

“How do you propose Elle got into your locker?”

Calvin actually laughed at that, the sound short and harsh. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is she _did_ get in. Unless you’re implying that Meg set this whole thing up herself, which if you are—”

“I am not,” Jenkins replied tersely. “But without proof, I cannot punish.”

“Then what?” At this point, Calvin was shouting. “Elle gets away with it and Meg gets screwed over _again_?”

Meg did something then that no one expected. She stepped in front of her boyfriend and cradled his face in her hands, right there in front of their principal. From where she stood, Veronica couldn’t hear what she whispered, but whatever it was appeared to placate Calvin and he sighed.

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” was Meg’s reply.

Principal Jenkins studied the couple. “I’ll be contacting your parents, Margaret, and we’ll need to take pictures for the record.”

A switch flipped in Veronica’s head. “Pictures,” she whispered. Then she turned to Adriana. “Pictures!”

Her friend cocked her head, perplexed. “What?”

“Has Elle blocked you on Instagram?”

“I don’t think so…?”

Veronica waved her hands in a hurrying gesture. “Quick, gimme your phone.”

Adriana unlocked her Samsung and gave it to her. Hastily Veronica opened Instagram and searched not for Elle’s regular account, but for her finsta. Even though Elle was smart enough not to leave a trail of evidence offline, her ego and desire for attention superseded that. She could not resist a chance to gloat. Which is why, whenever their clique had bullied Meg, she had boasted about it on her finsta.

And lo and behold, when Veronica found her fake account, the beady black eyes of a dead rat stared back at her.

“Principal Jenkins!”

Their ex-science teacher turned around as she darted across the hallway. Meg and Calvin looked at her in bewilderment.

“You want proof? Here’s your proof.” Veronica held up Adriana’s phone. Courage suddenly swept over her and she turned a triumphant glare upon Elle, whose eyes were narrowed. “How does the saying go? ‘Pride comes before the fall’?”

Jenkins took the phone from her, scrutinized the photo, and looked to Elle with a serious frown. “My office. Now. You too, Meg. Calvin—”

“I’m coming too.”

“No—”

“I’m not leaving Meg!”

For a solid five seconds, Calvin and Principal Jenkins stared unwavering at each other. Then, Jenkins broke eye contact.

“Fine.”

Calvin wrapped his arm around Meg’s shoulders and she leaned into him. Before they left, Meg looked at Veronica. Tears shimmered in her eyes.

”Thank you,” the girl whispered. Calvin gave Veronica an appreciative nod, which she returned awkwardly.

They walked down to the office. Sighing, Jenkins beckoned Elle to follow him. The black-haired girl’s hands were balled into trembling fists, her eyes aflame with rage. When she passed by Veronica, she gave her a look of such fury that Veronica forgot how to breathe. It wasn’t until Elle and their principal turned down another hall that she could fill her lungs with air once more.

Knowing Elle, she had probably just signed her own death warrant. But after four years of bullying Meg, Veronica knew that she owed it to her old friend.

Adriana crossed the hallway with Miguel moseying behind her. Once beside Veronica, her best friend grumbled, “So…Jenkins just took my phone.”

Veronica gave her an apologetic frown. “Sorry. I couldn’t use mine; Elle’s blocked me on all my accounts.”

“Eh, whatever. It’s not like I won’t get it back.” Adriana ran a hand through her curls. “But why are you helping Meg? She’s only ever been a nuisance. She doesn’t deserve your pity.”

There was no anger in her voice; simply confusion.

Scratching her arm self-consciously, Veronica said, “Four years worth of guilt finally caught up with me, I guess.”

“Well,” Adriana patted her shoulder, “I’m on your side. Just don’t ask me to be on Meg’s. I still think she’s a brat.”

The first period bell cut through the air. Adriana and Miguel left picked up their backpacks and left. Veronica was about to follow them when she saw something that stopped her in her tracks. Across the hall stood Jaime, watching her with a small, soft smile on his face. When their eyes met his smile grew wider and he dipped his head before moving to leave.

The way he had looked at her caused heat to flush Veronica’s cheeks. Meg’s words echoed in her mind, sparking a tiny ember of courage within her:

_He wouldn’t have asked you if he didn’t like you._

“Jaime, wait.”

He stopped. His eyes held a flicker of hope within them that made Veronica’s stomach do a somersault. “Yeah?”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll, um, go to the dance with you. I’m sorry it took me so long to think about it.”

Jaime’s face split into a huge smile. “I’m sorry it took me so long to ask.”

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t until the weekend that Meg and Calvin got another call from Veronica. This time, it wasn’t a warning.

Elle had been suspended.

 

* * *

  

_ [for anyone curious to see Meg's dress (the color is whipped apricot!)](https://shop.nordstrom.com/s/jenny-yoo-cold-shoulder-chiffon-gown/4677295?origin=category-personalizedsort&breadcrumb=Home%2FWomen%2FClothing%2FDresses%2FProm%20Dresses&fashioncolor=White&color=whipped%20apricot)  
_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! ♥︎


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